


Stargazing

by sstensland



Category: Crash Pad (2017), Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stargazing, just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 19:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstensland/pseuds/sstensland
Summary: Clyde takes Stensland to his favorite spot for some stargazing.





	Stargazing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squire/gifts).



> This is an absolutely self-indulgent thing that is loosely based off squire's [Stargazing in West Virginia. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327025) (Which, I still absolutely adore.) 
> 
> And a special thank you to [Gefionne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gefionne) for betaing for me!

A gentle breeze blows past them, colder than what Clyde knows for the average October night in West Virginia, but he hunches over, trying to build his body warmth in on himself through his sweatshirt and thinks nothing of it. Stensland shifts in his spot next to him, curling him up into a tighter ball. His he gazes off at the sky above them, filled with all the stars the galaxy has to offer—full of all the possibilities that exist in the world. The gentle light of the stars contours his face, highlighting the sharp bones of his cheeks, the straight edge of his nose, and the soft curve of his lips…

 _This was a stupid idea_ , Clyde thinks as he forces himself to look away. He doesn’t even know _why_ he suggested this: a small trip just for the two of them. But, maybe he does know why. All night, he had watched Stensland sitting at the bar, staring down at his drink with his eyebrows knit in the way that they do when he’s thinking hard about something. When he had asked him if everything was okay, he had received that awkward fake smile he does when he’s not happy with something—whether it be something with himself or his surroundings—his face all scrunched up with the nervous twitch of his lips.

For once, Stensland had been perfectly quiet and tame. Clyde hated it.

He missed the odd little stories and the quick little laughs. Missed the way his cheeks would start to flush when he started to enter the one-too-many territory and the way his accent would get a little more pronounced with every drink he had.

Something wasn’t right, and Clyde wanted to make it better.

So, he brought Stensland to the one spot he had always found some sort of tranquility—around the strange little life he led, full of well-twisted lies and laundering and just trying to be normal. He thought that maybe if he could help clear whatever was troubling Stensland. It was something that always worked for Clyde.

But, they’ve been sat there for twenty minutes now in utter silence. Just the distant sound of the occasional truck driving by in the distance or a bug flying past them to break the peace. Stensland seems more at peace now than he was at the bar, but Clyde doesn’t know if any of this helped. They haven’t said a word since they got out of Clyde’s beat-up truck.

“You know, my mom and me used to do this all the time.”

The words nearly scare him: so soft and sudden that Clyde almost thinks that he’s imagined them. “Pardon?”

“When I was little, we would go out to the garden, lie in the grass, and stare out at the stars. She’d tell me all these stories of the gods and how these came to be. It stopped when we moved over here, and I never thought about it again.” A pause. A deep breath. “I always liked the story about the Phoenix. He’d always come back bigger and stronger than before.”

“I’ve never learned much about constellations,” Clyde admits with a chuckle. His hand shifts through his hair. “I’ve always just liked comin’ out here, getting away from everyone.”

“So, you’ve never brought anyone here for a scandalous rendezvous?”

Clyde’s never been more thankful for the dark as he is now that he can feel the tips of his ears burn. “No, I…I’ve never brought anyone here.”

The silence he receives worries him more than he cares to admit. When he takes a careful glance over at Stensland, he sees him looking at him with a playful smile on his lips. Clyde wishes they were in a better-lit place so he could properly see Stensland, see the way his lips twitch from the amusement and the light dancing in his eyes.

“So, I’m the first?”

Clyde nods.

“Does that mean I’m special?”

A pause. A shaky breath that Clyde takes to calm down his racing heart.

He turns to look at the stars again. “I suppose it does.”

Maybe it’s his imagination, but he swears that Stensland’s inched his way closer, their arms almost touching now—so close—and Clyde’s suddenly become hyper aware of every movement Stensland makes.

He tries to focus on the sky again, on what he can remember of the constellations—the dippers and Leo and Orion—on the calm, easy way his breathing is remaining.

This was a stupid, stupid idea.

“I think you’re special, too, Clyde.”

All he can hear is his heartbeat, the rapid thudding in his ears, against his chest, as he feels himself tiptoeing into unknown territory. He knows where he wants all of this to go. Knows all about the coy, daft dance he’s been playing with himself for months and months now. Knows of the way his day instantly brightens every Thursday at 6:25 p.m.

He tries not to think on it. Stensland’s just being nice; he’s always been nice to him. Perhaps too nice at times, but nonetheless, Stensland is a nice guy. Someone like Stensland wouldn’t find anything _interesting_ in someone like Clyde, never mind anything _attractive_. Guys like Clyde, so averagely plain and boring, never were the ones to find love in the quirky, beautiful men that just show up in the bar one day and keep coming back. That may have been how all those trashy romance novels he likes to read when he’s alone go, but Clyde’s life has never been like that. Never would either.

He tries to count the stars to rid himself of those ridiculous thoughts. And then, something catches his attention. Across the sky so quick, so sudden, there is a streak of light. Gone as soon as it came. A meteor. A shooting star.

“Clyde?”

“I think I just saw a shooting star.”

“Really?! Where?”

The excitement in Stensland’s voice is enough to make him smile: just a small twitch at the corner of his lips, but a smile of all the same.

“Right over there.” He points towards a patch just above the horizon.

And then, suddenly, Stensland is _there_. The warmth of his body presses against Clyde’s side. The soft ends of his hair brush against his cheek. The faded, cloyingly sweet scent of bubblegum surrounds him.

Stensland looks like an excited puppy.

“Did you make a wish?”

When Clyde turns his head to look over at him, he doesn’t expect Stensland’s face to be so close. He can almost make out the little details of his face at this point, can feel the soft puffs of hot air that slip past this lips as he breathes. Clyde should move back. It’s irresponsible to stay like this, but Clyde’s intoxicated by it all.

“Won’t it not come true if I tell you?” His voice is barely a whisper.

Stensland chuckles. “I think that’s only if you tell me what you wished for.”

“I think you’re right.”

Clyde isn’t sure if the silence that falls between them is awkward, or as comfortable as he wants it to be. Stensland’s gaze is still so easily steady on him, and he can’t bring himself to look away from it. And it might be his imagination, but are they growing closer together? Each movement subtle and slow as if some magnetic pull is bringing them together?

“Can I kiss you?”

Stensland even seems surprised at his question, his eyes widening as the panic takes over his features. Clyde blinks. He…he wants to believe he had heard the words right. But…he couldn’t have, have he?

“What?”

“I… It’s nothing. I just thought that maybe there was something. But I just—your lips look nice, and shit! I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Just pretend I didn’t say—”

“Yes.”

It’s Stensland’s turn to blink. “What?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, thank God.”

He doesn’t waste another second before leaning forward and pressing their lips together. It’s gentle at first, a curiosity being fulfilled, before Stensland grows braver. His fingers lace through Clyde’s hair, tangling at the back of his neck, pulling him in closer.

It’s the best kiss Clyde has had in years. Stensland knows what he’s doing even Clyde is out of practice and under-experienced. But Stensland doesn’t seem to be bothered by any of it. He’s not bothered when Clyde’s nose gets in the way or his lips part just a little too wide. He just goes with it like it’s no big deal. Like he doesn’t care.

Clyde wraps his arm around Stensland, pulling him in closer. He gasps at the touch of Stensland’s tongue against his lip, groans at the gentle tug of teeth. Clyde never wants to stop—wants to stay here and kiss Stensland for the rest of the night, until the early dawn light starts to rise over the horizon, but he knows that it’s impractical.

When he pulls away, the two of them are out of breath.

Stensland lets out a light laugh, teeth scraping own at his bottom lip. “I’ve been wanting to do that for _months_.”

“You coulda.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to.”

A strange sense of courage takes a hold of him. “I wanted to since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Stensland casts his gaze down, bashful, with a shy smile on his lips. Clyde wishes he could see what shade of red his skin has turned, if it’s turned any shade at all.

Contentment fills him when he feels Stensland’s head against his shoulder and he settles himself at Clyde’s side. It feels nice, natural, like it’s something that’s just meant to be. (Maybe he really has read too many of those romance novels.) He tries not to think too hard on it. If he does, he might break whatever it is this is before it’s even begun.

“Is this okay?” Stensland asks, looking up at him, bits of his hair tickling at Clyde’s neck as he moves his head.

“It’s fine.” Clyde tries to offer a relaxed, composed smile. Tries to hide the jitters and excitement that things are actually going _good_ in his life, and that, for once, he got _lucky_. (Perhaps there were some lucky branches on the Logan tree after all.) He doesn’t know how well he succeeds, but Stensland doesn’t make a comment, and Clyde just wraps his arm around his shoulders, resting the prosthetic limb against Stensland’s shoulder.

“Does this mean that this is our first date?”

Clyde laughs. “Is that what you’d like?”

Stensland might be silent for too long—at least, to Clyde. He’s able to count five full, long breaths before Stensland says a word. “Yes.”

“Then it’s our first date.”

He stares out at the sky again, at the constellations and galaxies. At all the opportunities that may come his way. And for the first time, in a very long while, Clyde doesn’t think of curses, or gossips, or folk tales. He thinks of quiet nights on the couch, of the sight of red hair and bright smiles, of early morning kisses.

Maybe he’s being too hopeful, but it’s a nice change in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/sstenslands), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/sstensland), or [Dreamwidth](https://sstensland.dreamwidth.org/)!


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